


Shaman

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair rambles about his epiphany and the end of the world</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shaman

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to warn you that this story isn't going to have a sequel... And you might feel tempted to strangle me at the end of the story for this reason.:-) 

## Shaman

by Claudel

Author's webpage: <http://www.internetdump.com/users/enchanteresse>

* * *

The Shaman, by Blair Sandburg 

You know, for a guy who is supposed to be shaman of the great city and guide of one of the few Sentinels remaining in this modern world, I am not very bright sometimes. 

All the signs had been there for a long time. If I had just stopped for two minutes to smell the roses, I couldn't have missed it. Or just put my nose closer to the ground to pay attention to the pattern on the carpet. But what I did, moron that I was, was to ignore it until I tripped over it. Until faced with the choice of fulfilling what had been my goal for so long, finishing the damn dissertation and becoming the great anthropologist Dr Sandburg, I turned my back to it and claimed that all of this was bullshit. 

I think I had what people call an epiphany. It just wasn't the 'angel singing, heavenly light shining on me' garden variety of epiphany. I think more of it more in terms of water turning to ice. You know, there are pretty amazing things in nature; you don't need to look up there to witness miracles. For example, you think that water turns to ice at zero degree right? Well, not always. Water can only turn to ice if some crystals are formed, then the ice will quickly spread to the rest of the water. But if you are in a lab and you use a perfect receptacle to put your water in, a receptacle with no irregularities and you slowly lower the temperature, sometimes that crystal won't be able to form. And water will remain liquid at very low temperature. It feels strangely like having managed to fool some laws of nature. But if you give a little shake to the water, you disturb everything and it will turn to ice in a the space of a few seconds, just like that. 

Well, I was the damn water. All hell broke loose after my dissertation became public. I was given that tiny shake... and the pattern started to emerge with the crystals suddenly forming out of nowhere. I knew what had to be done, just like that, and I did it. 

Seriously, I shocked the hell out of myself. I honestly to god didn't know I had it in me. I didn't know what had been going on until all that crap forced me to sudden crystal clarity. And god, that hurt. That hurt like hell. Now, days later after that dramatic gesture at the press conference, I don't possess this clear sense of purpose that drove me to throw away my whole life so calmly and methodically. 

The anesthetic is wearing off, you would say. 

I am sitting in my car in the dark, looking out at the bay, and wondering how I managed to miss all the signs. I'm probably worrying the hell out of Jim, too, disappearing like that without saying where I was going. Ever since he practically ambushed into making myself a detective, he's been watching over me like he is afraid I'm going to throw myself off a bridge. The shiny little shield is a way of forcing me to float, I suppose. Probably the idea that Jim has of a talisman. At least he didn't toss me _dogtags_. 

But you know, I have no intention of doing that. Jumping off the bridge, I mean. I have every intention to going through the academy and becoming a cop. My old advisor from college would probably have a heart attack. Talk about a sudden change of career! 

Anyway, I disgress. 

I managed to be blind for too long. I thought I was a student in anthropology who was studying a Sentinel, and who got pulled a little too deep into that world, because let's face it, Jim Ellison doesn't allow people to half commit to him. And besides, he is a pretty nice guy. I love him, really. Aside from the fact that he is a bit too set in his ways and tends to freak out too easily. Yeah, details. 

Oh, I had several warnings before, but I didn't notice. You would think that a dying Chopec grabbing me with his bloody hand to pass on the way of the shaman to me would alert me that something deeper was going on. It somehow amused me, at the time. I thought it was a great cosmic joke. The guy has clearly misunderstood what I was doing there, I was sure of it. He was probably used to the idea that the Sentinel was always guided by a shaman, I was guiding Jim in that big city, therefore I had to be one. Maybe some kind of weird variety of it, and maybe he needed to give me a good shove to push me in the right direction, but he still thought I was a shaman. 

Of course, that's bullshit. I bet he perfectly knew what he was doing. Now I cannot help but wonder what was going on in his brain that his last dying act was to make sure Jim would have some kind of half decent shaman to help him out. Either he really, really liked Jim and wanted to help the poor guy, or he knew the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. 

I am betting on the second hypothesis, myself. 

I mean, first off, I died. Yes, crazy woman knocked me over the head and pushed me into a fountain. But I damn well know she didn't mean to kill me. You see, she could have shot me anytime to really make sure I was dead, but she didn't want to do it. Don't ask me why, I seem to be good at making psychos develop warm fuzzy feelings for me. She forced me to walk to the fountain, waited until she was sure Jim was on his way, then knocked me out. I think that in her mind it was an incredible act of kindness to give me a bit of chance to get out of there alive. And that way, she didn't risk losing her precious money because she had not killed the annoying little witness that her partner wanted to see dead. At least she could say: "Look, Carl, I made sure the little bugger was going to breathe water, how could I possible know they would manage to bring him back?" 

At least, that's how I picture the scene, but I do admit I have a pretty vivid and strange imagination. 

Then I had my second warning, when I was brought back to life by a jaguar jumping into me... into the wolf. That is not the classical near death experience, my friend. Most people tend to see what they expect will happen after death in their cultures. Most of us Americans think they will see angels singing on clouds and dead relatives greeting us, and that's what we get. Or if you think paradise is a land where you get plenty of food and beautiful naked women, well, you will have an interesting afterlife. 

In my case, I certainly don't belong to any religion anymore, but I certainly wasn't supposed to be seeing spirit animals. I can't even blame Incacha for that one; he certainly knew the jaguar, but I doubt he ever heard of wolves in his jungle. 

I really was to blame then. I knew something weird and wonderful had happened. Some kind of Sentinel thing, obviously, since Jim had experienced the same vision. But it didn't occur to me then that maybe it was time to let go of the academic thing and admit that I had been thrust into a new world. But no, I had to cling to my old identity, Blair Sandburg, doing his doctorate on close societies, nothing more. Oh, yeah, I got that adrenalin thing going on everytime I was at the bullpen, I was even stalling writing that dissertation because I really, really liked that observer thing, but it still didn't click in my head. 

I think at this point only lobotomy could have helped. 

Now I know of course, since the universe had to kick me in the teeth and force me to give it up. I am not an anthropologist. I am not even going to be a cop, even if I go through with this. Yeah, of course, I will be one on _paper_ , but let's face it, that's not what I really am. It's just an excuse to do what I am supposed to do, and it's lucky that I am relatively good in the chasing bad guy business, but that's about it. I will never be able to use that detective title to define myself. 

I am... maybe not a full fledged shaman, but I am the guide of a Sentinel. Whatever job I will happen to be doing on the side won't be terribly important. Hey, I am not complaining. Not many people who get to find out what is their purpose in this life, you know? It's a bit of a huge responsibility, yes, and I am not sure I can actually do it, but what other choice is there, really? I cannot walk away at this point. I don't want to walk away. 

And I have a _bad_ feeling that this is only the beginning. Bad things are coming up, and this time, it doesn't only involve the existence of one fucked up individual named Blair Sandburg. I can feel it as surely as I can feel bad vibrations gathering in the air just before a major storm is going to hit the city. I got caught in the middle of a hurricane once, and that's how it feels like just before it really hits. Everybody tense and holding their breaths, emergency measures everywhere, people fleeing and practically turning their home into protective castles. 

Only this time, it's a hundred times worse, and I seem to be the only one feeling it. And sometimes, in the middle of the night... I wonder if all those talks about the end of the world are not completely bogus. Sure, I know that the big bad bug doesn't seem to have affected the world as much as we feared. Everybody thinks we got away with it pretty easily. But I feel deep in my bones that it won't be simply a computer problem that will come bite us in the ass. Oh, it won't even be anything as dramatic as the Earth suddenly stopping spinning on his axis. 

I don't know what it will be exactly. I don't even _want_ to know. But, after all, how solid is this little civilisation that we have built? How much would it take to send all this carefully construct organization into chaos? 

I think those thoughts in the middle of the night, and in the morning, I manage to tell myself that I am being paranoid or something. That nothing will happen. But I still have this bad feeling deep in my gut. What if something is really coming? 

What if it could explain the sudden number of Sentinels that are showing up in the modern world? 

I am majorly freaking here. 

It's not only that some people heard about my dissertation fiasco and knew that it was true because they happened to be living this kind of weird shit, sensory spike and all that. It would be understandable they would all try to track me. I ran into Alex, so I always knew there had to be others out there. 

But what doesn't add up is that their abilities all started emerging pretty recently. My earliest case is two years ago, a girl who had a bad reaction to some kind of weed she was smoking and ended up bad tripping right into a psychiatric ward. They released her when she finally figured out that it would be a good idea to shut up about being able to hear and see things that other people didn't perceive. I mean, I didn't hear about it at the time, but her Sentinel abilities kicked online just two years ago. 

And the funny thing is that there was no reason it would. She didn't have the abilities when she was a child that she somehow repressed later, like Jim. She didn't spend any time in isolation that would cause them to emerge in the first place. She just went to a party one night and _wham_ it kicked in. 

Three other people have contacted me since then. They all have stories of the senses appearing almost overnight without any cause that I can discern. It happened from one year to only two weeks ago for all of them. 

And you know, that scares the shit out of me. I don't claim to know everything about Sentinels, but I fairly sure that the senses are either present when they were kids, or they kick in when they need them, if they are thrown into particularly stressful situations. Say, stranded in the Peruvian jungle or put in isolation in jail. 

Now, follow me here. A Sentinel has no obvious place in the modern world. Hyperactive senses will probably cause you to end up heavily medicated rather than being chosen as the leader and protector in your neighbourhood. Hell, Jim repressed his abilities as much as he could, because he _knew_ it would make him a freak. He has managed to find some kind of balance by working as a cop, but even then, he is forced to keep his abilities a secret. Boy, we learned it the hard way, didn't we? 

So, why in the world are there so many people with that extremely rare genetic combination suddenly emerging from the woods, and people to whom it happened so recently, at that? 

What would happen if it was because the tribe was going to need all the help it could get really soon? 

Jim laughs when I talk to him about it. But I can see the concern in his eyes under his good humor. I think he is afraid I will go on another crusade, try to go help those fledgling Sentinels, maybe? I know he was really shaken up when the first girl tracked me down, he thought I was going to jump on the first plane to see her. But I didn't. I just helped her to find the person around her who could act as a guide, and of course, there was a certain someone like that. I wasn't even surprised. I am beginning to suspect that this whole world isn't that randomly organized after all. 

But I have to stay with my Sentinel. I think I will be needed here, needed pretty badly, if my nightmares come true. 

But before that times come, if it does, something must be done before that. 

I start my car again and I drive effortlessly through the streets made sleek with rain. The loft appears warm in comparison to the darkness outside, and I am happy to be home. It's time to seek shelter now that night has fallen. 

Jim is there, waiting for me, as I expected. He looks up at me with worried eyes, like he knows that something is going on, that I have been thinking heavy and complicated thoughts. He rises from his curled position on the couch, standing before me, wordlessly helping me shrug off my coat and putting it neatly on the hook. 

"Jim." I suddenly whisper, just for the heck of saying his name. Or maybe to give him a chance to run away. 

But he stays there, smiling slightly now, apparently waiting for me to make the first move. 

And I do. Suddenly, my mouth is feasting on him, my tongue slipping between his lips, and we both groan happily. I clutch his head between my hands, controlling him, keeping him right where I want him. I am going to make sure he is mine tonight. I have never done it before, but I will take him upstairs to the big bed, and I will undress him. I will put my lips and my hands everywhere on his body, until he is arching under me, begging for more. Yes, I will make him beg, just to make sure he won't be able to deny this tomorrow. I will leave my imprint on him, and he won't be able to shake me loose ever again. 

I want to sink into his tight hotness and drive into him until I explode. 

I will make him mine. I won't have to face this future alone. 

-Fin- 


End file.
